


Twitter Dump 2019

by doublejoint



Category: Beauty Pop (Manga), Butterfly Soup (Visual Novel), Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball, Promare (2019), ヒプノシスマイク | Hypnosis Mic (Albums)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:02:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 5,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21877822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublejoint/pseuds/doublejoint
Summary: Small fics originally published on Twitter as threads or photos
Relationships: Aida Riko/Momoi Satsuki, Aina Ardebit & Heris Ardebit, Aohitsugi Samatoki/Busujima Mason Rio, Aohitsugi Samatoki/Jinguji Jakurai, Aohitsugi Samatoki/Yumeno Gentaro, Aomine Daiki/Midorima Shintarou, Aomine Daiki/Murasakibara Atsushi, Aoyama Kanako/Koshiba Kiri, Araki Masako/Alexandra Garcia, Diya/Min-seo (Butterfly Soup), Furihata Kouki/Kuroko Tetsuya, Haizaki Shougo/Ishida Hideki, Haizaki Shougo/Kagami Taiga, Heris Ardebit/Lucia Fex, Himuro Tatsuya/Kagami Taiga, Himuro Tatsuya/Liu Wei, Himuro Tatsuya/Nijimura Shuuzou, Kagami Taiga/Momoi Satsuki, Kagami Taiga/Takao Kazunari, Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Kudos: 26





	1. aomido x nba, g

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original tweets [here](https://twitter.com/lemaireality/status/1136460870459019264) (6/5/19)

Midorima frowns, resting his well-worn paperback on his chest. Normally, Aomine would say that face is cute (all of Midorima's little frowns are cute) but the way he's looking now says this is serious, not a small annoyance at the insects on the lake or the stupidity of the characters in his novel. 

"What's up?"

"I don't want to go back to Boston."

Aomine blinks. "Come again?"

Midorima loves Boston, though he won't admit it in those words exactly. He loves the questionable coffee and even more questionable public transit and the narrow streets and the Celtics fans; he's utterly scandalized by any implication that he would consider playing anywhere else.  


"I want to go back," Midorima amends. "But I don't want to go right now."

"Oh?" says Aomine, grinning. "Are you actually admitting you've enjoyed this fishing trip?"

(Despite Midorima's sunburn and his complaints that there aren't enough fish and there's nothing to do, he's had a pretty good time, and so has Aomine.)

"That's--yes, I have," says Midorima, cheeks flaring pink but eyes still staring straight into Aomine's. "But I know I have to go back and work with the coaches and prep for the season."

Aomine wasn't expecting something quite so direct. He's not sure what to say, and Midorima doesn't seem quite finished yet, so Aomine reaches his hand over to pat Midorima's thigh and waits.  


"I just...want to take this with me," says Midorima. "I want to train, and I like it, but I want this, too."

Aomine could coo at him or tell him that he can take a fishing rod or that he'll come back with him for a bit, too, but he can save all of that for later.

"Me, too," Aomine says.

He turns his palm over on the top of Midorima's thigh, and Midorima drops his hand into it, soft and large enough to cover Aomine's hand. Midorima doesn't smile, but his frown has lowered into something sweeter, like the remnants of sugar at the bottom of an iced tea.  



	2. aomura, winter in akita, g

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original thread [here](https://twitter.com/lemaireality/status/1126698431592820736) (5/10/19)

Atsushi's breath hangs trails away from him in the air, a condensed trail like looking out from the school roof from under the overhang on a rainy day, when the trees are bare and everything is grey and steam and smoke are bright white against the buildings in the skyline. That kind of feeling seems to be perpetual at least two thirds of the year in Akita, as far as Daiki can tell. It's like a parallel world, maybe, where everything's just a bit off, the muted weather and biting cold and the trees, but it's really not like Tokyo at all--and though it suits Atsushi well enough to be here, it's not the place that suits him best.  


Daiki hip-checks Atsushi, and Atsushi returns the gesture, harder.

"Ow." 

"You started it."

Daiki burrows his hands into the fleece-lined pockets of his parka; the wind picks up and he hunches his shoulders.

He's paying very little attention to anything other than the immediate concerns of the wind blowing in his fucking face and biting all his exposed skin, so when something bumps against him gently, Daiki doesn't realize it's Atsushi until his pocket's suddenly overstuffed with another gloved hand. There's not enough room to clasp Atsushi's fingers in his, but maybe Daiki doesn't feel quite so cold.  



	3. haikaga, positive change, t

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original thread [here](https://twitter.com/lemaireality/status/1127747667877072896) (posted 5/12/19)

Taiga knows, more or less, about what had happened between Shougo and the other Teikou guys when they were all in middle school together. He takes Kuroko's and Aomine's accounts with a grain of salt, Momoi's less so--no one is without bias, but she's got the least skin in that game and is the best at looking at the larger picture. 

He doesn't talk about it with Shougo. The opportunity never presents itself; Shougo never makes it an issue that Taiga's friends with them, hangs out with them, talks about them, but he always excuses himself from anywhere they're going to be, and Taiga never pushes the issue. Even with personalities like theirs, it probably won't devolve into all-out fighting, and Taiga doubts any of them would try to stick him in the middle. It was a long time ago, even if they're still hurting.   


Shougo's the one who brings it up, a Friday evening when they're on the couch watching television, Taiga halfway in his lap and Shougo's arm curled around Taiga's waist.

"I really appreciate that you invited me tomorrow. And that you invite me to these things in general, like, I know it's not just a token invitation cause you expect me not to take it or whatever. And I'd really like to be able to hang out with all of your friends and for this not to, like, be an issue. I just--I fucked up a lot when I was a kid; I was so dumb; I hurt a lot of people and they're not gonna forgive me or want to be around me, and I don't want to put you in a situation where you're dealing with that."  


Taiga twists his head so he's looking at Shougo's face.

"Hey," Taiga says, squeezing Shougo's hand. "They're not going to say anything to you or anything."

"I know," says Shougo. "But it'll just--it'll feel awful for all of us. Like, I'll constantly feel reminded of what a shitty kid I was and I'll get angry and take things the wrong way, you know?"

Taiga doesn't, really. He wasn't a perfect kid by any stretch, but all of his major childhood conflicts have been resolved or are so far in the past they don't matter anymore; there's no one he's convinced won't forgive him, especially not among Shougo's friends.   


"I'm sorry," says Shougo.

Taiga squeezes his hand again. "You're not that person anymore."

"I know," says Shougo. "Thank fuck."


	4. kagahimu wingfic, t

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the one where tatsuya has wings and taiga doesn't and it's mostly sad backstory
> 
> original thread [here](https://twitter.com/lemaireality/status/1192997378351083520) (published 11/8/19)

In retrospect, Taiga should have figured it out when Tatsuya started to wear bulky sweaters and hoodies in the summer, when he began to flinch away from touches to his back, when he wouldn't take off his shirt to go swimming or even go into the pool. Taiga had never seen anything like this before in real life, but he'd seen after-school specials and read stories like this in the standardized tests he always ended up having to do extra prep for. Even if he'd known, though, he wouldn't have been able to prepare himself for the first time he saw Tatsuya's wings.  


Taiga was trying to lose, and that had only made Tatsuya angrier; he'd ripped off the hoodie that was weighing him down and Taiga hadn't noticed the odd shape on his back. He'd focused on the ball, and the anger on Tatsuya's face and in his voice, and then all that had been pierced by a rip, the blades of grey feathers shredding through Tatsuya's t-shirt, and the unfurling of his wings, small but almost definitely strong enough to pull him a foot or two in the air.

'Can't you see?' Tatsuya had said. 'We'll never be able to face off as equals after this.'

And Taiga had said nothing, and Tatsuya had read into that every horrible thing he'd had every right to read, because Taiga should have known or at least guessed, or at least said or done something.

Taiga doesn't get to play against people like Tatsuya in the high school league. There's a different league with different rules and different people (and it's the same back home), so even if Tatsuya were to come here or Taiga were to go back, Tatsuya's right.


	5. kagahimu, ring, g

It takes an hour for Taiga to be comfortable with the ring on his third finger, its unfamiliar weight and the sensation of sweat. But it becomes just like playing in a hoodie on a crisp day (because crisp is as close as it gets to cold here), or like stopping by Tatsuya's house after school. It's normal, something that should have always been there.

It's a week before Taiga is used to the ring on a chain around his neck. It's been pinching his finger just a little; he's been pulling it off, playing with it more than wearing it lately. This is different, the weight of the ring more noticeable in its absence from his finger, no longer a moment until he slips it back on. Alex says something about it being closer to their hearts, and that should make him feel better--but he doesn't feel bad, just off, just thinking about the objections he hadn't raised when Tatsuya had handed him the chain.

It's longer than that before Taiga gets used to wearing the ring under his shirt. He tells himself it's so he doesn't think about Tatsuya all the time, but it's not like it helps. It's thinking about Tatsuya that makes him want to touch the ring beneath his t-shirt, swallow the lump in his throat, and stare at some fixed point int he distance. It's not like Tatsuya's unreachable; it's not as if he's dead or left for the moon. But - Taiga can't see him, can't talk to him, can't figure it all out, and that hurts more than the memory of Tatsuya's hand, his anger pouring out like his body had split at the seams.

Taiga never gets used to not wearing the ring. He tries, for a few months, but he's always reaching for his throat, always worried it's been lost.

"I can't," he tells Tatsuya. "I know you don't need the ring when I have you but..."

(And he does have Tatsuya, half an island away, an entire ocean away--in that much Taiga has faith.)

"We can wear them again," Tatsuya says--as if he didn't want to stop.

(But if he didn't, why had he suggested it?)

There's nothing to adjust to when Taiga puts the necklace back on. Everything feels right.


	6. samagen, mindless, g

Samatoki can tap out the check-in messages to his subordinates in his sleep, but that doesn't make them unnecessary. HE hadn't set out to do them at lunch with Gentaro, but he also hadn't expected Gentaro to come by.

(Gentaro knows this, which is part of the reason he's here. It's not the whole of it, though perhaps he'd like Samatoki to think he's only subverting expectations.)

"More interesting than me?" Gentaro says, lifting his glass of water to his mouth.

Samatoki fails to not suck his teeth at the remark. It's stupid; all of this is. Their time together crumbles away like concrete at the shatterpoint of a floor in a half-damaged building, chunks held together with bent metal veins.

Gentaro's fist is loose on the table. Samatoki covers it with his own as he fires off the last message one-handed.


	7. samajaku, bait, t

Samatoki likes to talk. He can talk his way in and out of anything, like a cat squeezing itself between close bars on a fence, something that doesn't quite seem probable even when Jakurai sees it. But Samatoki appreciates the value of silence, too.

Fishing is not all about silence; they still talk, still listen to the boat in the water, the wind on the grass, animals and vehicles not far in the distance. Samatoki hissing when he scrapes the pad of his finger with a hook.

The fish aren't taking the bait today, but Samatoki probably wouldn't reel any in--he could, physically but he'd wait too long (or, at least, he had the last time they'd gone fishing together, not so long ago as they'd like to say it was.)

Samatoki pulls back on the oars, shoving the boat away from the bank, sending it on a dragging turn, slow but obviously present, the fishing lines trailing behind.

Samatoki's lips are chapped. He quirks his eyebrow at Jakurai.

Jakurai shifts on his seat; tho boat wobbles ever-so-slightly. Samatoki smiles like he wants to capsize them.

"Please don't," says Jakurai.

Samatoki taps his fingers on the side of the boat, but he takes the suggestion,


	8. galolio, freeze, g

It's not cold that Lio feels, really; it's an absence of heat. It's not having a part of him more than sensations and perceptions being replaced, something he never wants to explain but almost feels like he should. Or has to, to the people who are used to hating his existence.

Why bother? It won't fill the hollowness around him, the severed connection. He can't chase after what he won't get back, and yet--he's been doing the impossible and inadvisable, the contrarian thing, for so damn long that not doing it seems like he's disrespecting himself.

Galo gets it. With or without a long-winded speech, he can say he's the same. The fires he puts out now are different, dangerous but not alive, not close to matching Burnish flames.

"I'm still helping people," he says, and it's true.

But the edges of his smile wear away. Who are they to wish for the conflict, the chaos, the danger? It made things hard, but it made them normal, and now they can only wait at the edges of the once-frozen lake.

There's no chill rising up from the ice that's no longer there, but that's got nothing to do with why Lio doesn't feel the absence of heat so strongly here. Nor does the humming engine of Galo's bike. They're here, the two of them, in a way they couldn't have conceptualized when things were normal (well, maybe Galo is enough of an idiot to not let his thoughts get in their own way). Un-impossible, all over again.


	9. ishihai, build, t

Haizaki's been working for the construction company six or seven weeks when he first encounters Ishida. Ishida's a foreman already, efficient and good at rallying his workers around getting shit done--much better than he was in high school, though that was a long time ago.

He doesn't bring that time up, but neither does Haizaki--for the better, as far as Haizaki's concerned. Look straight past him, put in the hours, and go home. Try not to think about what a horrible little shit you were way back when.

It's easier when he's not thinking about Ishida. How Ishida had put up with him, but not hated him, in some ways worse than everyone else's outright dislike. He hadn't been rejected, but Ishida certainly didn't want to be his friend. (Haizaki hadn't been able to admit that he'd wanted and needed a friend back then, and it's still not something he wants to talk about with anyone else.)

Haizaki certainly doesn't care if Ishida wants to be his friend now. He might as well be just another guy on the project, doing the work he's paid to do. Hell, he shows up every day. It would be weird if he wanted to be pals with the foreman, anyway--but perhaps no weirder than going out to drinks with him and the rest of the crew.

Ishida can take a gentle ribbing from the guys, and up close under the bar lights he looks a lot more relaxed than Haizaki's ever seen him. (Not that he pays attention.)

Ishida looks at him; Haizaki stares straight back, moves to pick up his beer, and misses. Fuck.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," says Haizaki, smoothing over his hair.

"You look better without the cornrows."

A million comebacks clatter through Haizaki's head like rapid-fire free throws, but no, he doesn't have to be defensive, and Ishida's probably not hitting on him--though if he were, well, that's a thought for another time.

"Thanks," Haizaki says.

This time he looks down before picking up his beer.


	10. kurofuri, husky, t

Nigou doesn't like to stay on his leash, not that Furihata can blame him. Dogs weren't meant to be cooped up in small apartments and city gyms, forced in by another species. And Kuroko's always been lax with him.

But, as Seirin's captain, the team mascot as to be (at least partially) Furihata's responsibility. He reminds himself of this and squats across from Nigou.

"Come."

Nigou's paw twitches, but he doesn't move, and Furihata is reminded strongly of Kuroko. (Nigou is just a dog; they just have the same color eyes; there's nothing weird or supernatural about it.)

"Please?"

Furihata cringes at himself. This is not exactly a firm, commanding tone.

"Here boy. Nigou."

Nigou stands. Furihata smiles, hopeful; Nigou begins to trot, but swerves right past Furihata and over toward someone else's ankles. Oh.

"Can you put the leash on him?" Furihata says, standing and practically shoving the leash at Kuroko.

"Nigou doesn't like it," says Kuroko.

"We have laws," Furihata says, and this is probably the hundredth time they've had this discussion, and damn it, one of these days Furihata's going to win.

Kuroko scoops Nigou up in his arms, a slight smile on his lips. He knows he's already won. Furihata exhales and stuffs the leash into his pocket. Kuroko has no right to look this cute when he's smug.


	11. nijihimu, enchanted, g

Shuu doesn't even know how charming he is. It's not just with Tatsuya; he makes old ladies smile and kids flock to him, and even Tatsuya's parents aren't immune. Tatsuya is not without charm himself, but it's practiced, something he consciously tunes into like a radio frequency that's naturally slightly fuzzy in his head. Shuu, as straightforward as he is, doesn't notice it himself. Tatsuya's not mad or jealous, really. He could help it; it's not as if Shuu has cast some strange enchantment over him.

But what's there to complain about, when Tatsuya gets all these benefits? He can watch Suu smile and a bunch of little kids swarm around him like snowdrifts against a fire hydrant; he can hear Shuu's voice soften in the air. And Shuu's actually trying when it comes to Tatsuya. He doesn't need to, but if Tatsuya told him that (not that he'd ever consider it) Shuu wouldn't stop.

Shuu clasps Tatsuya's hand in his with a flash of an unselfconscious grin.

"What are you thinking about?"

"You," says Tatsuya, and it's true.


	12. lio, frail, t

The flames were strong. They always had been, calling in chorus winding around Lio's fingers, coming at his call. They would stand as a wall against ice, collapsing buildings, forming and regenerating constantly.

The flames left in the world now are frail, tiny things. Even if they were organize into a wildfire, the technology that had, at best moved into a draw against the Burnish would wipe them out. They do not speak; they burn and roast and crumble, taking without giving.

Still, he is drawn to them. The sparks and sputters, the flat flicker, the glow and the momentary warmth that he feels even through clothes meant to shield frome flames, are fascinating. A quick squeeze on the handle of the hose and they vanish, leaving ash and rot and smoke. Lio shivers.


	13. kagataka baseball au, t

"You're dropping your shoulder," says Taiga.

"Oh?" says Kazunari.

The next pitch comes in from the machine. Kazunari swings, drops his shoulder, and connects anyway, hitting it solidly straight back at the machine. He's doing this on purpose, obviously; he turns his head to wink at Taiga before the next pitch comes in. That one he misses, right under the ball.

Taiga shuts off the machine and grabs a helmet. "If you wanted me to feel you up, you could have just said."

"Where's the fun in that?" says Kazunari.

He leans on the bat and tries to pull Taiga into a kiss, but Taiga ducks away.

"Fix your swing first."

Kazunari pouts.

"Fine," says Taiga, but he makes Kazunari pull him down again.

"Taiga, I need help with my swing," says Kazunari. "You're such a good hitter."

Taiga rolls his eyes, but he can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

"Okay, turn around."

Kazunari sets up, actually somewhat serious--he's not sticking out his ass or exaggerating. So Taiga looks. His knuckles are lined up; his elbows look good.

"Your feet look too wide."

Kazunari looks down. It's not too noticeable, but just off enough for Taiga to see it, and difficult to fix without overcorrecting. He adjusts, then readjusts.

"Okay," Taiga says, clapping Kazunari on the shoulder.

He leaves his hand there as Kazunari goes into his swing. He forgets to drop his shoulder this time, or just doesn't do it--either way, ti doesn't matter.


	14. aina & heris, pattern, g

"Diamond, diamond, heart, diamond, diamond, heart, diamond...what's next?"

"Diamond," says Aina. "Heart."

Heris smiles. "Good job!"

Aina smiles back. These exercises--the patterns, the flash cards, the word games--are boring. She would rather play pirates or make art, but seeing Heris smile--making Heris smile--is worth doing this.

"Have I told you about the Fibonacci sequence?" says Heris.

Aina shakes her head. That sounds difficult.

"Here, let me show you."

She smooths out the piece of paper Aina had been using to practice addition, and begins to write numbers in the blank space. They keep getting bigger, faster--it doesn't make any sense. Aina frowns.

"Do you see?" says Heris.

Aina shakes her head.

Heris tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. "Okay, so you start with one..."


	15. liuhimu, snow, g

Whenever Tatsuya pictures Wei in his mind, it's on a backdrop of winter--slush, dirty snow, road salt, shoulders steeped against the wind, breath condensed in the air, gloves and scarves and hands in coat pockets, the hissing of old radiators. It seems unreal and bizarre to have Wei beside him on the beach--tan lines and sunglasses, sand sticking to the sunscreen on his leg.

Tatsuya exhales, squeezing his toes around the sand. A dog barks somewhere, and Wei shifts on his beach towel.

"Is it always this hot?"

Tatsuya shakes his head. "It gets hotter."

Wei snorts. "You missed?"

"Yeah."

Wei's hand covers Tatsuya's, slippery from the condensation on his water bottle. The surface of the ocean peaks and wobbles, redirecting sunlight back at Tatsuya's face. He squints.

Wei's smile is loose on his face, not an expression stiff against the cold. He hasn't melted out here, but Tatsuya didn't expect him to. (After all, he himself with his hot blood hasn't.)


	16. kagahimu, dragon, t

It would be easier to be a dragon. There would be no hiding his monstrous form, no holding back the fire that's always at his fingertips, no way to not know when he's about to trample over everything.

It would be easier, sure, but it would be harder, too. He wouldn't have to hold back, but wouldn't be able to, would have long since driven away everyone who matters, everyone he fails to keep at arm's length (because that's far enough to avoid his claws).

He has hurt Taiga the most, but opened himself in return--shown the most gaps between his scales, left himself vulnerable the most, spilled the most blood. It doesn't erase the past, or the guilt, weighing him down like heavy jewels, catching the light.

"You don't have to hold your breath," Taiga says.

He has just exhaled into the sharp wind; the cords on his hoodie blow over his shoulder.

"I'm not," says Tatsuya.

"You know what I mean," Taiga says.

They've argued over this before. Taiga saying this helps, but his words don't magically dissolve Tatsuya's regret or pull him into the present. He knows he can let go and he knows it would help, but there is still the debt that feels unpaid, the gold and jewels dragging him down. The cavern might not be big enough to flap his wings in.

Taiga starts walking, and Tatsuya waits a bit. He breathes out on purpose. Maybe it's made him a bit lighter.


	17. samariou, ash, t

Samatoki lights his cigarette on the campfire, poking it into the ashes until catches and burns. The first night he'd stayed with Riou out here , he'd used a lighter the whole time, a flick of his thumb and a steady flame, but that had been almost too many times ago to count.

He'd grumbled about the noise and the insects and the hard forest floor, but he'd come back. (They do end up spending more time in Samatoki's apartment, cramped and claustrophobic and smoke-stained, full of both its own strange noises and an unnerving silence. But they still come back here too.)

Samatoki turns, catching Riou's eye as he breathes out, pulling the cigarette away from his mouth. He looks more relaxed than he had last night, clutching at Rious' hand under the covers, or than he usually does out here, one eye on the horizon, as if something will bypass the traps and materialize in front of them.

Riou smiles, holding his gaze.


	18. garciraki + ny pizza, g

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally published 2/1/19

The grease hits Alex's palm, running like a creek down the lines into an orange waterfall to the paper plate. She hasn't even taken a bite yet. The smell of the spices and the cheese and the pepperoni, curled up at the edges, thick-cut, is overwhelming. Alex bites down on the tip of the slice, pulling it away and letting the cheese break itself. She looks back at Masako, whose own hands are dry and clean in contrast to her half-eaten slice and soaked plate.

"I'd ask for what you're having, but..."

Alex snorts. "Hey. I've been away for three weeks."

"They have pizza in Texas. And Florida. And--"

"I get recognized," says Alex.

Even saying that, loudly, in the middle of a pizza parlor, elicits no response.

"Come on. How can I be so disloyal?"

Masako smiles, slower than if she were simply amused.


	19. kagamomo, taiga gets lost, t

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted 3/24/19

“Are you sure you know where we are?” says Satsuki.

“Yes,” says Taiga. “I’m positive.”

He’s seen this road before, and this TGI Friday’s with the lights on the F burned out, and not just the other time they’d driven past them. They’re close to the turnoff for the park, and the food they’d brought for the picnic is still in the coolers under a blanket in the back of the truck. Taiga knows where they are, just not exactly. 

“I’m sure we could go into that Starbucks and ask—”

“No,” says Taiga. “I got this.”

“Okay,” says Satsuki, doubt seeping from her words like water from a wrung-out washcloth.

Taiga’s aware he’s acting a little bit unreasonable. There’s nothing wrong with asking for directions (he’s seen Tatsuya do it enough times to know that). But this was supposed to be him showing Satsuki the park; this was supposed to be a perfect date. 

It’ll be a shit date if they never get there, the better part of his brain reasons.

“Or I could use the GPS?” says Satsuki.

“Let’s try Starbucks first,” says Taiga.

(He’s pretty sure he remembers how to get back there.)


	20. kagahimu, late night food, t

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted 3/24/19

The days are so hot that walking between the house and the car, and then the car and the gym, feels like almost too much. Even with the air conditioning in the gym so high Tatsuya can barely hear Taiga’s voice next to him, there’s no escaping the stuffiness and sweat. Tatsuya doesn’t skimp out on his reps, but he really fucking wants to. 

The heat makes his appetite disappear, and even reduce’s Taiga’s, but at night it cools off. And when they have no food in the house, and the air’s not quite so tight and the sidewalks don’t scald his feet through his flip flops, they get another chance to go exploring. (They’ve done less of it than Tatsuya had hoped so far, mostly because they’d moved here in the middle of a fucking heat wave.) 

The streets are dark and not too busy. People are still out, headed someplace or another, and drunk college kids stand outside the bars smoking and tapping on their phones. It’s still hot, but Tatsuya can walk closer to Taiga and brush up against his arm without their skin sticking together—though, is that really so undesirable? 

They pass a 24-hour Burger King, a club with thumping bass. A bar that’s packed to the spilling point is an obvious no-go, as is an empty and seedy-looking pizzeria. A food cart looks a little more enticing, but when Taiga nudges Tatsuya he shakes his head. He wants to sit down and eat. 

They round the corner and are faced with a taqueria, neon lights in the window and a couple of what look like high-school kids sharing a plate of chips and salsa. 

“This place?” 

Taiga nods.

The menu’s pretty standard, and the cashier is a little surprised when Taiga orders one of every kind of taco. Tatsuya sticks with one fish and two chorizo, and he grabs a tamarind Jarritos for Taiga and a Coke for himself. 

“Caffeine this late?” says Taiga.

“What?” says Tatsuya. “It’s not that much.”

Taiga smiles, like Tatsuya’s insistence on this arbitrary vaguely-bad idea means something to him, and with that smile it sure as hell means something to Tatsuya. 

“Are you paying together?” says the cashier.

“Yeah,” says Tatsuya. “For here, please.”

He hands over his credit card before Taiga can reach into the pockets of his workout shorts. (The elastic is wearing out but Taiga’s gained a lot of muscle since he got them; they still slide low on his hips, and the way the fabric drapes over his thighs is pretty fucking nice.)

The cashier’s in the kitchen when the kids leave, the door banging shut behind them. Tatsuya steals a quick kiss from Taiga on his tiptoes, and Taiga catches his hand before he lowers himself.


	21. kagahimu hockey au, t

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted 3/24/19

The clock winds down and Tatsuya winds up, coiled springs tightening in his skates in his feet. His skates cut the ice with urgency like bows on violins as the tempo rises, and his ears can’t block out the announcer reminding them that they’ve got one minute left in regulation. An overtime win is fine, but regulation is better against a division opponent who’s chasing them in the standings. It shouldn’t matter; they should be good enough to not have to worry about that, but Tatsuya wants the playoffs anyway even if his team doesn’t clearly deserve it.

He skates ahead into the zone; the puck skitters off his stick and onto an opponent’s, fuck—and then the puck goes sailing down the ice, past the open defenseman and iced.   
Taiga pats Tatsuya’s leg with his stick on the way to the circle, telling him to relax in not so many words. Easy for him, easier said than done. But if Taiga’s sure, then Tatsuya’s ready. He knows the puck will be coming to him.

He does not glance up at the clock. He has time to wind up and take a slapper, or to lift the puck upward and over the goalie’s shoulder, or take it at whatever angle it comes and shoot hard enough to get a rebound almost guaranteed. (Tatsuya would like to be the one in the dot, too, but this is not the time to argue positioning. Taiga will win the draw.)

Taiga does win it, and it comes right to Tatsuya, hard. The defensemen are already setting up a screen, so Tatsuya shoots a wrister. It’s blocked beofre it gets there; Tatsuya still hasn’t finished the swear before the puck comes right back to him and he shoots again, and this time the puck goes right through the right d’s legs. Their goalie doesn’t see it coming. It’s in; it’s clean;

Tatsuya registers it and then Taiga’s arms crush him from behind, and Taiga’s breath is on his neck and a hoarse “fuck yeah” in his ears. 

They beat the clock this time—but they still have a lead to hold. Tatsuya glances up, finally; twenty-seconds and a neutral zone start. Could be worse. 


	22. diya/min, cupcake, t

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally published 2/9/19

Liz bakes cupcakes for the last game of the season. Some are lemon sugar-free (gross); some are chocolate (pretty good), and the best of the bunch are vanilla with buttercream frosting. Min takes two at the start, and she can tell Liz is too indecisive to do anything (too flattered by the compliment, even if she wants to scold Min). Noelle glares, because she's Noelle, but Diya's already on her second.

There's a dab of icing on her upper lip, and it's so fucking cute Min can't stand it. Ordinarily, she'd just swipe it away, but it might embarrass Diya if she did it in public like this. (At least she probably won't notice Min staring like a fucking idiot, and chewing her cupcake slowly.)

Too slowly, because there's only one of the vanilla left, and both Min and Diya reach for it at the same time. Min pulls her hand back, but Diya's already seen.

"Split?"

Min frowns. She's already had two of those, and Diya's just had one. Diya takes the frown differently.

"Or if you want the whole thing--?"

"Split," Min decides.

Diya smiles, splitting the frosting on her lip. This time, Min wipes it off.


	23. kiri/kanako, burger, g

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally published 2/12/19

A lunch date had seemed like a good idea at the time. Kiri likes eating; they've eaten lunch together so many times before. But this time there's no school cafeteria, no Taro or Narumi to make noise. It's not even as if they're sitting out back behind Kiri's father's salon on a Sunday. It's just the two of them, at an unfamiliar burger stand, the one order of fries in the center of the table slowly dwindling as Kiri grabs one after the other.

Kanako's barely swallowed two bites of her burger. It had felt like foil in her throat, wrong taste and wrong texture. Her fingers are trembling.

It's only Kiri. But Kiri's more than only--and so is this.

"Kanako? You okay?"

Kanako's body betrays her and she shakes her head--worrying Kiri is the last thing she wants.

"I mean--"

Kiri leans over the table and dangles out her hand--her left hand, the better one, the one she always uses now to cut Kanako's hair. This isn't the first time Kanako's held it, nor is it the first time it's calmed her down.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," says Kiri, taking another bite of her second burger.


	24. momoriko gossip girl au, t

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted 2/13/19

The wind picks up just as Satsuki steps back from the food cart, and she tucks her chin deeper down into her Gucci scarf. It'll be quick, but the prospect of hot, greasy noodles and using the rest of her cash seems like a worse deal than it did when she'd gotten on line two minutes ago.

"Cold?" says Riko.

She, of course, is wearing an open coat and no scarf, proclaiming her good circulation to the world.

"Offering your coat?"

"Want it?"

It's nice--Burberry, worn in, but just Riko's size and thus way too small for Satsuki (the idea of getting her arms all the way in is laughable).

She gets to hold Riko's hand, though--that fits, and it's warm enough to tide her over.


	25. lucia/heris, first date, t

"Don't you apply for grants?" says Heris, adjusting her glasses.

"Nah, I just get a portion of the budget," says Lucia. "Burning Rescue gets some money; Boss reserves some of it for other stuff, and I get the rest for R&D."

"That sounds...simple," says Heris.

Lucia's not too sure if it's a compliment or not, but she is very sure that Heris's lips are a small number of inches from her ear (maybe inch, singular, and change) and she needs to do something quickly. She almost turns away to show Heris the newer rendering computer but one, that's so not Heris's field, and two, Burning Rescue is not made of cowards.

"Gives me more free time to, uh...do research."

Smooth, Lucia. (At least she hasn't brought up her issues with government-funded science on principle and totally wrecked this not-first-date yet.)

Heris edges closer. Lucia does not fist-pump.


End file.
